


stay with me

by Esbion



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Domestic, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 17:15:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29654646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esbion/pseuds/Esbion
Summary: Prompt: Luna decides to move in with Neville. What starts out as a totally platonic roommate situation turns into something more.For Luna Lovegood Fest
Relationships: Neville Longbottom/Luna Lovegood
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8
Collections: Luna Lovegood Fest 2021





	stay with me

**Author's Note:**

> This is for you m0rs! Hope you enjoy <3

“So, what do you think?” Neville asked. 

“It’s nice,” Luna glanced around the flat. It had just enough space for the both of them. A kitchen, a tiny living room area, and two small bedrooms. Between the two of them, they had pooled their money earned from part-time jobs and were able to buy their own place in the city, far away from either of their overbearing family members. Luna loved her dad, and Neville loved his grandmother, but the two were eager to have a little independence after finishing their schooling. And what better way to do it than to move in with a close friend?

She stared at the wall, her fingers brushing the blank white surface. “Do you think I can paint these?”

“Yeah,” Neville said. “What do you have in mind?”

“Hmm, how about a sunset? Or, perhaps a night sky?”

Neville nodded. “Whatever you like.” 

“Look, Neville,” Luna wandered over to the window. “The view is beautiful.”

Neville walked over to stand next to her and stare out the window. “It is.”

As they stood side by side, Neville’s shoulder accidentally brushed against her own. He pulled away quickly, giving Luna a respectful distance. Luna kind of wished he hadn’t; his physical presence was comforting to her. 

“So it’s settled, then? We’re moving here?”

She breathed in, drawing the cool, fresh air into her lungs. It tasted like new days, new aspirations. “Yes.”

***

Neville was being swallowed by a snake. In the background, he could hear the Dark Lord cackling. The battle is ongoing, Hogwarts full of people fighting Voldemort and his army. Shouts and cries filled the air, a cacophony of pain and anger from both sides. The ground was stained with blood and death. 

Neville was supposed to kill the snake. He was supposed to destroy it. But his sword was gone, and here he was instead powerless 

He could hear himself screaming. 

“Neville,” called a voice. 

Neville opened his eyes to find himself lying in the dark, sweating all over. 

Standing over him is Luna, looking disheveled in her nightgown and untidy blond hair, brushing against his face as she leans over him. 

Neville takes deep breaths, gulping air into his lungs. 

“Just a nightmare,” he says weakly. “I was at Hogwarts-- the battle--I---”

Luna sat down on his bed. Neville found himself reaching for her, taking her hand. She invited him closer with a pull of her arms. She had more strength than Neville thought possible in those slender arms of hers. She smelled like laundry detergent, something crisp and sweet.

“It’s over,” she said, hugging him close to her body. “The war is over.”

Neville could feel his heartbeat growing steady again, safe in Luna’s arms. 

“Sorry for waking you,” he whispered. 

“No,” she said, holding him tighter. “It’s okay.”

***

Luna found him the next day, standing on the tiny balcony at the back of their flat. It’s a small space, the dozens of potted plants leaving little room for the two of them. Neville was kneeling in front of a plant, carefully trimming its leaves. He looked up when he saw her, giving her a smile. 

“How are you feeling today?” Luna asked. 

It was a careful question, an open-ended one that could lead to either him talking about his feelings or keeping them to himself. That was one of the things Neville appreciated about her, that she would give him space and not pry too much. It was in stark contrast to the way his grandmother had treated him or even how his housemates had treated him in school. 

“I’m alright, thanks.” Neville said. He stood up, brushing the soil off his palms. “Hey, I have something for you.”

Luna tilted her head curiously. “Oh?” 

Neville picked up a small pot on the ground. In the pot was a newly-sprouted plant, with a small white bud at the end of the stalk. “It’s a Nyctinium. It blooms under moonlight-- so if you put it on your windowsill you’ll see the flower come out in the middle of the night.“

“Thank you,” Luna took the plant from him, gazing at it with widened eyes. “It’s beautiful.”

No, you’re beautiful. The thought came to Neville unbidden as he looked at Luna casually brushing her long white-blonde hair out of her face with her gentle, paint-stained hands.

“You’re welcome,” he said.

She smiled serenely, hugging the plant close to her body. “I’m going to make pancakes. You can come join me for breakfast when you’re done.”

Luna headed back inside, and Neville went back to his daily plant-tending tasks. 

A few minutes later, Neville smelled something burning. 

He rushed inside to find Luna standing at the stove, with a spatula in one hand and her wand in the other, desperately trying to blow away the smell of burning pancakes using a gust of air. Luna coughed. “Sorry, I got distracted, I heard a noise over there and I thought there might have been a Wrackspurt...”

“Luna, I can do the pancakes,” Neville said. He reached forward and took the spatula from Luna while reaching around her to turn the stove with his other hand. He froze, noticing that his arms were on either side of Luna and she standing between them. Her hair was brushing against his front. She half-turned around to look up at him with wide eyes. Neville stepped away hastily, aware that his face was probably going pink.

“Okay,” she said. “And I’ll make the raspberry sauce.” 

“Raspberry sauce?”

“It’s your favorite, isn’t it?” Luna asked. She took the bag of fresh raspberries out of the fridge and a sack of sugar out of the pantry. 

“Yes-- how did you know?”

“Your gran told me, last time we went to her house.” 

“Oh, yeah.” Neville smiled to himself. That occasion had been the summer solstice, the first major holiday after the war had ended. His grandmother had made several comments about what a nice girl Luna was, and how she couldn’t wait for Luna to “join their family.” Neville had insisted that they were just friends.

Because that’s what they were. 

Friends. 

And he didn’t want to ruin that.

Humming an unknown tune to herself, Luna poured her ingredients into the pot and turned the stove on, letting the ingredients simmer. 

They stood there side by side-- Luna stirring her sauce, while Neville flipped pancakes. 

Luna let him taste the sauce, feeding him with a wooden spoon. 

It was sweet, but not too sweet. Just a hint of tanginess. 

“It’s good,” he said. 

For a second Neville thought he saw her gaze lingering on his mouth as he licked the last drop of syrup off his lips.

***

Luna perched on the edge of her windowsill, sitting next to the flowerpot. 

She turned the pot so that the flower bud faced outside, letting the moonlight fall down on it. 

The bud began to open, the flowers blooming, pure white pristine petals illuminated by the moonlight. Luna breathed in the scent. It was beautiful. 

She couldn’t wait to add the flower to her notebook of mementos, press the lovely petals between the pages. 

Luna thought of the way Neville looked when he had given it to her, the proud but soft smile on his face. 

She could hear him in the other room, tossing and turning in his sleep. Neville followed an early sleep schedule, going to bed precisely at ten each night and waking at six. Luna, by contrast, found that night time was her most productive hours-- when she felt most motivated to work on her scrapbooks, or painting, with only the moon for company.

She took our her paint set and was sitting on the ground, pondering where she would which spot on the wall would become the canvas for her new work of art, when she heard Neville cry out in his sleep. 

Luna glanced out into the hallway and into his room. Neville was now thrashing and turning in his bed. Luna stood up and approached Neville’s room, quietly, carefully. She didn’t want to intrude, if that’s what it would be. 

Last time, she had been walking towards the bathroom for to refresh herself and assumed he was having a panic attack of some sort. This time he was clearly asleep and having a nightmare., muttering unintelligible things in his sleep. Luna stood in the doorway, unsure what to do. 

Then Neville woke up. 

Luna forgot her hesitation and hurried over to his bedside. 

“Shhh,” she whispered, sitting down next to him. 

“What’s going--did I--Voldemort--”

“Isn’t here,” Luna said. “It’s just a bad dream.”

Neville was breathing hard, some of the clarity returning to his eyes.

Luna reached across to take his hand, holding it in hers. 

“I don’t know why I keep having bad dreams. Maybe it’s the--uh--the Nargles?”

Luna knew for a fact that that wasn’t something Nargles could do. 

She reached out and placed her hand on his head. He didn’t pull away from her touch so she stroked his hair gently. “It’s your own mind, you see, sometimes when bad things happen they leave an imprint in your brain.Your mind doesn’t want you to forget, because it might happen again. Your mind wants you to be prepared for the next time. But it’s okay, because there is no next time. You’re not in danger anymore.”

Neville breathed a sigh at her words. “Luna,” Neville said, sounding uncertain, shy almost. 

“Yes?”

“Would you sleep with me?” Neville began to blush the second the words were out of his mouth. “I mean--stay with me....here....”

“Of course,” Luna said. “I’ll stay.”

***

Neville woke up feeling more refreshed than he had in ages. 

He got up and found that the flat was empty, Luna already having gone to work on one of her stories for the Quibbler. He walked around the flat, picking up clothes and quills and paintbrushes that were left in random places. It wasn’t that Luna meant to be messy. It’s just that she was a little spacy, a little forgetful sometimes. Out of the two of them, he was the one who ended up picking up things a lot of the time. He didn’t mind. 

He was thinking about the way she had come to him last night, stayed with him. That warmth he felt inside when he was around her. He wondered if he should tell her how he felt. 

When he stepped into Luna’s room to place her cardigan on her bed, he spotted a journal lying open on the desk. Neville avoided looking at it, not wanting to pry in Luna’s personal belongings. But the window was open and a breeze from outside flipped the journal’s pages. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw himself on the page. He was sketched with soft pencil, with careful detail-- a picture made by someone who had spent many days staring at him. 

There was a heart scribbled at the bottom of the page.

Neville shut the book.

What did it mean?

He walked out of the room, feeling confused. 

It was hours later when Luna returned. She came bearing an order of fish and chips, a plant she’d picked up from a conservatory on Diagon Alley, and stories of her interviewing all sorts of people for the Quibbler investigation on a possible conspiracy. 

Neville added the plant to his collection, setting it outside on the balcony, while listening to her speak. 

She followed him out on the balcony. “And how was your day, Neville?” she asked.

“Good,” he said. 

He picked up a yellow flower that had fallen off one of the plants. 

“Oh, that’s a pretty one,” Luna commented.

Neville reached over and, before he realized what he was doing, placed the flower in Luna’s hair. She was over a head shorter than him, a natural height for his arm to reach the top of her head. 

He froze as his fingers brushed against her wavy blonde strands.

Luna stared up at him with her wide eyes, a silvery blue-gray, the color of moonlight. Neville gazed at her face, at the soft contours of it, so familiar to him after these years, with her lips curved into a serene smile. 

“Neville,” said Luna, “Do you want to kiss me?”

“Yeah,” he whispered. “I do.”

So he did. 

She kissed him back and the butterflies in his stomach dissipate. 

Luna reached up, swings her arms around his neck, pulling him closer to her. 

Her enthusiasm-- the way her petal-soft lips seeked his, the way she clutched onto his cardigan, caught him by surprise. 

It seemed like he wasn’t the only one who had been craving this. 

She takes her into the apartment again, and before they know it they were both sitting on the couch, and she was sitting in his lap. She fit perfectly there, with his hands around her waist. 

Her body against his felt natural. Comfortable. 

Like coming home. 


End file.
